


Luck of the Irish

by bookscape



Category: Zorro (TV 1957)
Genre: Gen, Leprechauns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscape/pseuds/bookscape
Summary: Two Irish strangers show up at the pueblo. Is one of them a leprechaun?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Two Irish strangers show up at the pueblo. Is one of them a leprechaun?

Luck of the Irish

**[2](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish2.htm)**

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**[3](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish3.htm)**

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**[4](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish4.htm)**

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**[5](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish5.htm)**  
  
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_**Luck of the Irish**_  
  
---  
  
_Description:_  
Zorro finds that luck comes in many different forms when he sets out to catch a gang of bandits 

_Disclaimer:_  
The characters of Diego/Zorro, Alejandro, Bernardo, Tornado, Sgt. Garcia and Cpl. Reyes all belong to someone else, but oh, I have had so much joy borrowing them. Sean Fitzpatrick and Bran Muldowney are my creations and if you ask nicely, I will probably be more than willing to loan them to you. The banshee and all of the little people as well as the Irish legends all belong to the Irish, and I enjoyed using them.

_A note from the Author:_  
This story is dedicated to Matt Baker. He loves Zorro, which makes him one of the most astute eight-year-olds around. Thank you, Matt. May the wind always be at your back.  
I also wish to thank Lisa Pierce, Keliana Baker, and the Cat in the Hat, whose encouragement has helped to fuel the flames of creativity.A person could not have better friends. _Gracias_.

Susan Kite  
9 March 1999  
  
---  
  
****

**Chapter One - The Luck of the Irish**

**"Sergeant, where might I be able to find the local tavern and also, perhaps, a place to spend the night?" a lone horseman inquired of the portly soldier.**

**Turning, Sergeant Garcia noticed a peculiar lilt to the stranger’s Spanish, but couldn’t put a country of origin to the accent. Since Mexican independence, there had been more foreign visitors in this part of California. It kept him busy, but some of them were also willing to fill the wine cup of a certain sergeant while they explained their business.**

**" _Señor_ , we have but one _posada_ in our fair pueblo, but I am afraid that you may have problems finding a place to sleep there this time of year," Sgt. Garcia replied graciously. "As the acting comandante, however, I must ask you a few questions and then maybe we can find a place for you to stay."**

**"That be fair enough, _Comandante_ ," the stranger answered pleasantly.**

**Garcia smiled a bit, always pleased when someone acknowledged his position. "Where have you come from, _señor_?"**

**"Recently or originally, Sergeant?"**

**"Well, both, I suppose," Garcia answered, a bit confused by the foreigner’s total cooperative spirit. Many of the people he questioned were incensed by what they perceived as an invasion into their private affairs.**

**"Well, _Comandante_ , perhaps my tail bones and our throats would benefit by discussing this in the pub over a bit of ale.....or wine, I suppose, would be the better term," the stranger said with a pleasant smile, dismounting.**

**" _Sí_ , that is a most wonderful suggestion," the sergeant smiled broadly at the young man. Pointing across the plaza to the tavern and giving a final warning to the hapless soldier he had been berating, Garcia accompanied the horseman. For some reason, which he couldn’t figure out, the sergeant found himself instantly liking this pleasant-seeming fellow. The man was fairly young, probably not any older than his good friend Don Diego was, and his smile was quick, again much like Don Diego’s. Perhaps that is why he was drawn to him. This foreigner seemed much like his friend.**

**Physically, the man was slighter; perhaps a few inches shorter than he and fairly thin. The sun-darkened face held a hint of ruddiness, indicating European origin. The stranger’s hair was reddish brown, his eyes a deep bluish-green.**

**"Ahh, Sergeant," the stranger said a few minutes later after draining a mug of wine. "This may not be what I am used to, but after the terrible dust of your _El_ _Camino Real_ , this is heavenly nectar."**

**_"Sí_ ," the sergeant agreed wholeheartedly. "Now, the questions, _señor_?"**

**"Ah, yes, Sergeant. I have been traveling in Mexico these past four months. I am a writer and my backers in the home country enjoy my tales of the uncivilized western hemisphere." Seeing the sergeant’s questioning look, he continued. "I am originally from the fair emerald-green land of Eire." The sparkling eyes held a hint of homesickness for just the briefest of moments and then the merry look returned.**

**‘ _Eire,’_ Garcia thought furiously. ‘ _Where in the world would that be?’_**

**"Ah, a visitor," a pleasant voice came from behind him. "And from Ireland, too. I have heard and read about your country, _señor_ , but never met anyone from the land of St. Patrick."**

**Recognizing the voice, Garcia beamed. "Don Diego," he boomed. "Join us."**

**Diego de la Vega, being insatiably curious, didn’t hesitate. In fact he had come over for that very purpose, wanting to find out more about this amiable stranger. Pulling up a chair, the young _caballero_ smiled at the newcomer and made himself comfortable.**

**" _Señor_ , this is my good friend, Don Diego de la Vega. Don Diego, this is....." he hesitated, not having gotten that far in the conversation.**

**"Sean Gerald Donahue Fitzpatrick. Sergeant, Don Diego, at your service."**

**" _Señor_ Fitzpatrick, welcome to our _pueblo_ ," Diego said brightly. "What brings you here, if I may ask."**

**"As I was telling your c _omandante_ , I am a writer, sent by several well-to-do backers to write about the wild and uncivilized western hemisphere. I was in Mexico, which is a charming country, by the way, when I heard something, which intrigued me. Inquisitive person that I am, I decided to investigate. I also assumed that Lord Branham would enjoy a few pages about _Alta California_ as well," Fitzpatrick explained.**

**"What was it that you heard, _Señor_ Fitzpatrick," Diego inquired, curious.**

**"I heard stories from a few traders and travelers about the existence of a man that they called El Zorro. Are these stories true?" he asked, his eyes brightening in anticipation. "The tales seemed so fantastic. I almost got the impression of a supernatural being or at the very least, one with help from supernatural or magical beings."**

**Diego sat back, his face impassive, but inwardly he was surprised. He knew that Zorro was well known in the areas of southern California and to a lesser extent, northern California; but Mexico? And the idea of his clandestine activities being considered in the realm of the supernatural somewhat amused him. Garcia just nodded his head and refilled his wine cup.**

**"Is there such a person?" the writer insisted.**

**"There is an El Zorro, _Señor_ Fitzpatrick," Diego told him. "But to say he is supernatural would probably be an exaggeration." He paused and then added with a slight smile, "Nothing magical, just good luck and skill, I suppose. But why would you say that he is helped by supernatural beings. What supernatural beings are you referring to?"**

**"Oh, it is said in my country that the wealthy and long-lived ones have one of the little people sitting on their shoulder. I am referring to the fairy folk."**

**Diego lifted his wine glass to his mouth, mainly to hide the grin that threatened to turn into a laugh. The young man seemed serious, though and the _caballero_ didn’t want to insult him. "Fairy folk?" he finally asked.**

**"Oh, leprechauns, and the _far darrig_ , and _pucás._ The little people are usually mischievous, sometimes devious, although they have been known to be quite helpful, if they take a liking to you," Sean explained. "They are very small, but can do amazing things. For instance, the _pucá_ lives alone and can change his shape into any animal he wishes, although he prefers that of a black horse. The _far darrig_ are also called the red men and they are quite mischievous, too." His audience now included more than just the sergeant and the young _ranchero_ , he noted. "And leprechauns hoard gold, and to get it from him, you have to look him in the eye and demand it, never looking away. He cannot refuse. Sometimes they will grant wishes."**

**"Gold?" Garcia inquired, entranced with the story and intrigued with the reference to the gold.**

**"Oh, yes, leprechauns are the shoemakers of the elves, so they are very rich and keep their gold in kettles, hiding it in caves or whatever nooks and crannies they can find."**

**"Well, we have none of those in California, nor do we have an abundance of gold, so Zorro would not have one of the little people sitting on his shoulder," Diego said with a chuckle.**

**"Oh, _sí_ , but _Señor_ Zorro is possessed of much skill and a very fast horse," Garcia concurred. "And I suppose good luck as well." The sergeant looked thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder if Zorro’s horse could be one of these _pucás_?"**

**Fitzpatrick looked thoughtful for a moment, too. "Well, we Irish are considered to be very lucky. I think that I will meet this man. How would I go about it?"**

**"That is impossible, _señor_ ," the sergeant said with a chuckle. "He only rides when there is trouble."**

**"Well, at least I can write about California," the Irishman said, sounding disappointed. "That is if I can find a place to stay."**

**"This time of year is very busy. After the rains of winter, there are many _fiestas_. It is also the time when the _rancheros_ are most busy with the birth of new calves and foals, as well as the planting," Diego explained. "But, s _eñor_ , if you need a place to stay, you are welcome at the de la Vega _hacienda_. We have plenty of room, my father and I, and I would not have it said that California hospitality was lacking when you write back home."**

**"Are you sure, Don Diego?"**

**"Positive," he said and turning, started signing to the moon-faced man standing at the tavern bar. "I am telling my servant to ride home and have the guest room prepared for your arrival. Bernardo is a most devoted manservant, but he can neither hear nor speak. In a day or two, when you have rested from your ride, we can attend a _fiesta_. You should have a great deal to write your Lord Branham about, _Señor_ Fitzpatrick."**

**"Gracias, Don Diego," Sean said, deeply grateful for this unexpected, but not surprising hospitality. He had been moved by the graciousness of many people in the former Spanish colony.**

**=========================**

**"Diego, have you taken leave of your senses?" Alejandro de la Vega stormed. The older man paced the length of the library and then turned to face his son once more. "This man has admitted his determination to meet Zorro and you bring him here?"**

**Smiling, Diego reassured his father, "It would have been unseemly to withhold our hospitality, Father. And besides, I really do not see anything coming of this." Leaning against the large hardwood desk, he waited for his father to calm down a bit more. "And if _Señor_ Fitzpatrick is staying here with us, we can keep an eye on him."**

**Gazing at his son, Alejandro finally said with a sigh, "Yes, you are right, my son. I did not think of that. Just be careful." Diego nodded. "He is napping now?" Alejandro asked.**

**" _Sí_ , Father. He said he had ridden part of the night and all morning and was very weary. I asked Juanita to prepare a large meal for tonight, having taken the liberty of inviting Sgt. Garcia to dinner as well. He seems to have taken a liking to our Irish author."**

**"Yes, it is a good thing you warned Juanita, with the good sergeant coming to dinner," he commented dryly. Both men chuckled.**

**Diego turned to Bernardo, who had been standing nearby. "Make sure that you keep an eye on our guest when he is awake, Bernardo."**

**===================**

**"Ah, Don Alejandro, this was a most wonderful meal. _Gracias_." Sgt. Garcia sighed as he consumed his last _tortilla_ , using it to mop up the final bit of gravy on his plate.**

**"I will have to agree," Sean commented. "It was wonderful, even if a bit spicy." Bernardo refilled the wine glasses. "And your wines are most excellent, Don Alejandro."**

**" _Gracias, Señor_ Fitzpatrick," Alejandro acknowledged. "Which part of Ireland are you from?"**

**"East of Limerick, _señor_. The most lovely green hills, blue skies, clear waters. The air is clean and fresh and on some days you can smell the salty tang of the sea blowing in on the morning breeze across the majestic River Shannon. The hills roll like the waves of a gentle sea and the grass makes the horses strong and fast."**

**" _Señor_ , if you write the way you speak, then your benefactors have chosen well," Diego commented with a smile. "But we raise good and hearty animals here in California as well. Would you care to go for a short ride and see our _hacienda_." Then he paused. "But I am a poor host, you are probably tired of being in a saddle."**

**"Oh, no, Don Diego," Sean said. "I would be greatly honored to see _your rancho_. The evening is most beautiful and I have grown rather fond of the sunsets in this part of the world."**

**Diego motioned to Bernardo to have their horses saddled. "Father, will you be accompanying us?" Alejandro nodded. The manservant left.**

**A loud knock interrupted their congenial banter. When Diego opened the door, Corporal Reyes rushed in breathlessly. "My pardons, _señores_. Sergeant, I received word that the payroll shipment from Mexico has been stolen between San Pedro and Los Angeles. One of the soldiers accompanying the courier was able to get away and bring us the news."**  
  
---  
  
**[Chapter Two](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish2.htm)**  
---  
**[Holiday Zorro Stories](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/holidayintro.htm)**  
**[Zorro Contents](http://www.bookscape.net/zorrocontents.htm)**  
**[Main Page](http://www.bookscape.net/index.htm)**


	2. Luck of the Irish

Luck of the Irish

_**Luck of the Irish**_  
  
---  
  
**Chapter Two - Following Shadows**

**"I must leave, _Señores_ ," Sergeant Garcia said resolutely. He got up and accompanied the corporal.**

**"That is too bad," Alejandro remarked, watching Garcia leave. "The soldiers have been waiting most patiently for their pay." Bernardo came back in and indicated that the horses were saddled.**

**In the stable yard, Diego looked at his palomino gelding and then sighed. "I must have forgotten to tell Manolito to check my horse’s right rear leg. It is a bit swollen and he was limping on the way home. You two go on. I shall have another horse saddled. If you wait until I am ready, you will miss the sunset." His father nodded knowingly, and he and Sean rode out, followed by a _vaquero_.**

**Immediately Diego motioned to Bernardo, and the two men dashed back into the patio area and up the stairs to the young _caballero’s_ room. A slight push against the mantle piece revealed a hidden door. As they stepped through, Diego started removing his _chaqueta_. "Bernardo, go saddle Tornado. I will be down by the time you are finished." Nodding, the _mozo_ grabbed a lantern and started down the stone steps.**

**Within five minutes a dark-clad masked man was mounting an equally dark horse. Bernardo signed ‘ _Vaya con Dios_ ’ to the horseman and stepped aside as Zorro rode out of the cave. Checking the countryside, the dark rider set his heels against the stallion’s flanks and felt the powerful muscles gather and propel the animal to the top of a high hill. Reaching the summit, the stallion reared, screamed a challenge and then raced down the slope toward the western sun.**

**On another hill, Sean watched in fascination as the ebony-hued horse and rider crested the far ridge, silhouetted in the setting sun.**

**"The Saints be praised," he exclaimed in awe. "If I didn’t know better I would say that was a banshee riding a _pucá._ Who is that?"**

**"That is El Zorro," the older man stated, a tiny bit of pride creeping into his voice.**

**"El Zorro," Sean repeated, unbelieving of his good fortune.**

**"But, _señor_ , what is a _pucá_?" Alejandro queried.**

**"No time now, Don Alejandro," Sean exclaimed and urged his horse after the masked rider.**

**"You will not be able to catch him," Alejandro shouted to the retreating rider.**

**"He will find out for himself, _patrón_ ," the _vaquero_ commented with a chuckle. Alejandrojust nodded.**

**Sean lay low across his horse’s neck to lessen wind resistance, but still the black stallion gained distance on him. As the western skies darkened, the Irishman began to have problems keeping Zorro in sight, but still he tried to follow.**

**======================**

**Zorro kept Tornado to a mile-eating gallop that would get them to the site of the robbery without overly tiring the stallion. Riding to the top of a hill overlooking the _El Camino Real_ , the outlaw saw several soldiers on the ground and one horse grazing by the side of the highway. The only sound he heard was that of a slight wind moaning through the trees and brush.**

**Riding down the slope, Zorro jumped out of the saddle and examined the men. It was as he feared; all of them were dead. " _Vaya con Dios_ ," he murmured. As quickly as he could, he examined the area looking for clues, before the advancing night made it even more difficult. Soon he discerned the direction of the bandits’ flight. Determined to find these killers, Zorro remounted and followed the path of the bandits’ escape.**

**Sean Fitzpatrick lay prone on the crest of an eastern ridge, watching the outlaw examine the area. As soon as the dark-clad man had ridden over the summit of the far hill, the Irishman mounted his borrowed horse and followed after El Zorro.**

**A quarter of a mile into the hills, Zorro dismounted again and leaving Tornado, proceeded on foot parallel to the path. There was too much likelihood of ambush if he stayed on the trail. Stealthily, he slipped from boulder to boulder, listening for sounds in the darkness. Sounds that would betray the bandits. He only heard the buzzing of insects and small nocturnal animals. Occasionally a coyote started a lonely cacophony of howling. _Snap_! Ahead of him someone stepped carelessly and the outlaw froze, listening.**

**Peering into the darkness, Zorro was finally able to make out a figure leaning against a boulder, the snapping sound coming from a dry twig in the sentry’s hands. Soon the snapping was stilled; the guard slumped against the boulder, a lump forming on his head. With a smile, Zorro folded the bandit’s hands in the attitude of deep sleep and pulled the man’s _sombrero_ down over his eyes.**

**Hearing voices, Zorro moved in almost total silence to a boulder overlooking a cul-de-sac where he was able to watch three men arguing. A waxing moon began rising from the east and the outlaw moved to keep from being silhouetted in its light.**

**"Miguel, do not be so stubborn, Marcos is right to hide the money. If we start buying wine and horses, people will know," one said.**

**"I only wanted a little bit, Paco. Just enough to enjoy a night in the _pueblo_. Surely that was not too much to ask," Miguel whined.**

**"Miguel, keep your mind on business." Paco jerked his head toward the rocks above him, looking in Zorro’s general direction. The masked man ducked down further behind the rock, wondering what had alerted the three men below. It was then he heard the slight sound of someone trying hard to be stealthy and not succeeding very well. Small stones skittered and crunched and Zorro ventured a glance. _Either this is a great coincidence or someone has followed me_ , the outlaw thought irritably. The man was in the deeper shadows and the only thing that he could determine was that his follower was not a soldier.**

**Glancing down, Zorro saw that the three men had disappeared and he didn’t doubt that they were on their way to his location to find out who was spying on them. Figuring his best ploy was to wait and allow the bandits to show themselves to him, the outlaw crouched even further behind the boulder and carefully unsheathed his sword.**

**One of the men passed his location, and in a single motion Zorro rose, reached around the man’s neck with his left arm and jerked him back towards him. The hilt of his sword rendered the man unconscious before the bandit had realized he was being attacked. Easing the bandit quietly to the ground, Zorro perused the area and saw the other two robbers struggling with the intruder.**

**Without hesitation, the masked man raced to the follower’s side and grabbing Miguel, swung him around and dazed him with a solid blow to the chin.**

**"Zorro!" Paco breathed in fear. Zorro grabbed him by the shirt and pulled the frightened man closer to him. The point of his blade rested just under the bandit’s chin.**

**"Drop the knife, _señor_ ," Zorro hissed at the slight movement of Paco’s hand. "My sword can relieve you of your life much more quickly than your knife can relieve me of mine." Paco’s hand slowly relaxed and the small knife dropped to the ground. " _Señor_ , pick up this one’s knife and their pistols and keep a close watch on those other two men," Zorro ordered his unwanted follower.**

**"Now, _bandito_ , where is Marco?" he asked his prisoner. Paco just shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. Somehow, Zorro thought that Paco was more afraid of Marco than he was of him, and he supposed rightly so. It was well known that Zorro didn’t kill unless there was a very great need, whereas Marco had easily killed three soldiers. The sword point prodded the shivering man enough to draw a spot of blood. "Where is Marco?" he repeated.**

**"He went to hide the gold, _Señor_ Zorro."**

**"Where?" Zorro persisted. He felt the other man’s scrutiny on him, but feeling no threat, chose to ignore it. "The money belongs to the soldiers who earned it. Where did Marco take the money?" The saber moved very slightly, and Paco took its threat seriously.**

**Paco’s breath was ragged with fear. "A cave. But I do not know exactly where. Please, I know nothing more. Marco will kill me, _Señor_ Zorro."**

**Swinging him around, Zorro laid the hilt of his sword against the base of Paco’s skull. Then he turned to his follower. " _Señor_ , I had a chance to capture this bandit leader and find the payroll with very little trouble, but now....? Who knows," Zorro whispered to the man. "Follow me and try to walk more quietly this time."**

**The three bandits were quickly tied up with the very ropes holding their pants up. The outlaw smiled grimly at the thought of these men bound by more than hemp cords. "What is your name, _señor_?" he asked, although by now he was pretty sure of the identity of his ‘partner.’**

**"Sean Gerald Donahue Fitzpatrick," the Irishman said softly.**

**"Well, _Señor_ Fitzpatrick, let us see if we can salvage this situation. You wait here. Keep an eye on these men," Zorro said, and Sean was astonished to blink and see nothing but a whisper of black satin disappearing behind the scrub brush. A slight shiver ran down his spine. This man was like Cúchulainn, the magical hero of Ulster. With a pistol in each hand, Sean settled down near a boulder where he could keep an eye on the bound men and listen for either Zorro or the bandit leader.**

**The only thing he heard was the soft cooing of a bird a short distance away. The sound was repeated once and then there was silence. Not even the insects were making themselves known. After what seemed an eternity, Zorro returned and it was apparent that his quest had been fruitless. "I am sorry, _Señor_ Zorro," Sean said. The outlaw just shrugged.**

**"You heard a sound, like that of a bird?" Zorro asked. Sean nodded. "That was Marco. I was too far away and he was gone before I could get to him. It would seem that our bandit leader is very familiar with this area." He lifted his head and a piercing whistle broke the stillness of the night. "There is no more need for a pretense at stealth," he explained at Sean’s questioning look.**

**Soon a large and ethereal shape loomed before him. The black stallion pawed and snorted and Zorro rubbed his neck and head briefly, murmuring softly to him. Tying two of the bandits on the horse’s back, Sean and Zorro each carried one of the others. As they approached the highway they saw a small contingent of lancers strung out on the trail, climbing slowly, but steadily.**

**"Sergeant Garcia," Zorro called out. The sergeant looked up in surprise. "I have four guests for your _carcel_ , but unfortunately the leader eluded me and it is he who has the payroll." The outlaw cut the rope holding the two bandits on Tornado. They landed with a soft thud and the stallion danced away with a shake of his head.**

**" _Señor_ Zorro, I appreciate your help. When word came of this robbery, some of my soldiers left the _cuartel_ to find work elsewhere and others have threatened to. It is a sad thing, but I do not blame them." Garcia’s large shoulders slumped dejectedly. "But if word gets out that there is almost no protection for the people of Los Angeles, I fear what might happen."**

**"Sergeant, I will continue to look for the bandit and your payroll. Perhaps you should talk to Don Alejandro de la Vega. Is he not the leader of the group of _caballeros_ who swore to band together and protect the area?"**

**_"Sí, Señor_ Zorro. He is. _Gracias_ ," the sergeant said as Zorro mounted and rode back toward Los Angeles.**

**=========================**

**"This El Zorro would be a wonderful asset against the British and Scottish invaders in Northern Ireland," Sean declared over a glass of wine two hours later. "Well, perhaps not the Scottish. They are there because the British offered them free land to raise crops and families on. I really cannot say I blame them."**

**"But the way he moved and attacked the bandits. It reminded me a bit of Cúchulainn, one of my land’s most superb and mystical warriors." Seeing the questioning looks on the faces of the two de la Vegas, he continued. "Cúchulainn was a young man of great strength, who could fight hundreds by himself in battle. His attendants were demons and spirits that would frighten the most stalwart enemies away, his crested helmet screamed horrible epitaphs to those who came against him and his invisible cloak protected him from harm. He even fought the powerful faerie, Queen Maeve herself, and stole her magical bull away." He saw that his audience was captivated, so he told the story of the boy warrior and Queen Maeve. When he had finished there was silence in the room.**

**Diego blinked, having been caught up in the spell of a story well told. Handing his empty glass to Bernardo, he commented, "Sean, I do not doubt your abilities as a writer, but your skill as a storyteller is unsurpassed. The only thing I had heard about Ireland is that it is a beautiful land and Saint Patrick was the man responsible for the conversion of its inhabitants to Christianity hundreds of years ago."**

**" _Sí_ , Saint Patrick had a confrontation with a druid wizard and through his great faith and the miracles he wrought, proved himself to be stronger. It was then that high king Tara allowed him to preach, baptize and build churches. He was also responsible for ridding the land of snakes as well. Each year we honor him on the day of his death, March 17th. We have great parades, contests and a special mass."**

**"That is next week, Sean," Alejandro said.**

**"Yes, I will miss it this year, but I will get to see one of your _fiestas_. That, I suppose, will be a fair substitute. And perhaps I will get to see El Zorro once more."**

**Diego just smiled and raised his glass. "Perhaps."**  
  
---  
  
**[Chapter Three](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish3.htm)**  
---  
**[Chapter One](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish1.htm)**  
**[Holiday Zorro Stories](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/holidayintro.htm)**  
**[Zorro Contents](http://www.bookscape.net/zorrocontents.htm)**  
**[Main Page](http://www.bookscape.net/index.htm)**


	3. Luck of the Irish

Luck of the Irish

_**Luck of the Irish**_  
  
---  
  
****

**Chapter Three - The Leprechaun**

**As soon as Sean had retired to the guest room, Diego again changed into the garb of El Zorro. The moon was slowly descending toward the western horizon, casting elongated and mysterious shadows, but he ignored them, thinking that at times the night seemed more familiar than the day. For some reason Tornado was skittish, but even so they soon returned to the camp of the bandits. Zorro carefully searched the area for any indication of the direction that Marco had taken to hide the payroll money. Small imprints in the dust led him in a northwesterly direction, but a short distance later the path and the prints ended.**

**Tornado snorted and pulled at the reins. Holding the stallion’s bridle and stroking his nose to calm him, the outlaw listened for evidence of anything that might be spooking his horse. There was nothing. Puzzled, Zorro whispered soothingly before trying another path leading more to the east. This one continued and occasionally he was able to discern footprints. Tornado still seemed nervous, to the extent that he was lathered around his legs and on his neck, but he continued to follow his master.**

**Just as the eastern sky began to show signs of the coming dawn, Tornado stopped suddenly and began shivering, pawing the ground in front of him and shaking his head. In consternation at the ebony stallion’s strange behavior, Zorro took a tighter hold on the reins, and then looked around for evidence of snakes. Suddenly, from beneath his feet he felt a strange shaking and heard with it, a soft rumbling as though from distant thunder. Screaming, Tornado jerked the reins free and scrambled backward.**

**The shaking became an undulating rhythm and the feeling that the ground was falling away from him became real. It was though a giant was jumping up and down on the earth. Zorro stumbled to his knees, watched rocks rolling nearby and continued to hear the rumbling, though now it was louder. _Earthquake!_ he thought and tried to get to higher ground. Rocks began cascading down from the slope above him, pelting him incessantly, and he heard Tornado’s frightened scream from above him.**

**Quickly glancing at both sides of the _arroyo_ , Zorro started to climb up the hillside that appeared to be more stable. A short way up the slope, he looked over his shoulder and saw a pile of dislodged rocks and earth cascading down to the spot where he had been standing. The outlaw managed to get halfway up the heaving, dancing slope, dodging rocks and coughing in the thickening dust, when a dislodged juniper knocked him off his feet. His head banged against a boulder and the shaking of the earth continued for a moment and then died away without any sympathy to the plight of the unconscious form lying half buried in the dust, gravel and rocks. The only caring soul was an ebony stallion that danced, pawed, ran one way and then another. When the shaking finally began dying away, Tornado stood on a nearby hill and screamed his echoing challenges.**

**=======================**

**Sergeant Garcia had spent a very frightening morning, one that he hoped he would never have to experience again. The lancers had left the _cuartel_ before the first light and about the time they had reached the site of the soldiers’ ambush, the earthquake hit. Frightened horses screamed and scattered in all directions. Some bucked their riders off as they dashed back to the perceived safety of the _pueblo_. Others, like his own horse, took off in whatever direction their heads were pointed, blindly and panic-stricken.**

**Finally in its terror, his big horse dancing and bucking. Although Sergeant Garcia could sit a horse well, this time he was thrown off and the acting comandante sat nursing a sprained wrist and many bruises as his gelding ran back in the direction of the _cuartel_. Groaning, the sergeant heaved himself to his feet and began walking in the same direction.**

**The sun was just rising, and the reflection of the light on the dust motes that still lingered in the air gave the sky a reddish glow. It was at once fascinating and hellish. The screaming of a horse caused Garcia to look over to a far hill, where he saw the coal-black stallion that Zorro normally rode. The horse screamed once more, pawed the ground, reared and dashed a little ways down a slope before racing back up again.**

**Curious, the acting _comandante_ walked toward the stallion, wondering if Zorro might be somewhere down in one of the little valleys. _Saints preserve him if he is,_ Garcia thought with concern. The morning light began to illuminate more of the countryside and the sergeant finally saw a still black form. In alarm, he made his way as quickly as possible down the slope to where the motionless figure lay. Moving some of the rocks and gravel, he discerned that it was indeed Zorro.**

**Carefully turning the unconscious form over, he checked for signs of life. He could find none. "Oh, _Señor_ Zorro, after all this time, an earthquake kills you," the sergeant said sadly. And then he wondered, since the outlaw was dead anyway, who this man, who had alternately been a great thorn in his side or a great help, actually was. So he reached up and gently pulled the mask down revealing the face of... "Don Diego!!" he cried in shock. Always empathetic and kind-hearted, tears filled the eyes of the sergeant who was doubly shocked by the death of his friend as well as the highwayman, whom he had come to respect.**

**For some reason he felt compelled to replace the mask, but when he tried to remove the debris near Zorro, his injured wrist betrayed him. He sat and pondered for a moment. He could not allow Zorro’s identity to be found out, even in death, for fear of retribution against Don Alejandro, whom he also greatly respected. Sighing, he realized that all he could do was to bury him here as best he could and let Don Alejandro know what had happened. He wondered remotely if Don Diego’s father was aware of the secret. One-handed he removed the cape and covered the still form, not seeing the slight rise and fall of the cloth on the outlaw’s face. Then he moved a few rocks to hold down what he now considered a funeral shroud.**

**Pain caused him to cease his endeavors and Garcia hoped that he had done enough until he could talk to the _hacendado_. It was not something he looked forward to.**

**=======================**

**Zorro came to a painful semi-consciousness, coughing and choking, trying desperately to clear the dust from his lungs and throat. He felt someone lift his head and put a water skin to his mouth. Avidly, he drank the tepid liquid, feeling that nothing could taste more refreshing. Too soon it was pulled away and with relief to his parched throat, came the awareness of a throbbing in his head.**

**Slowly he opened his eyes and saw that he was laying in the semi-darkness of a large cave. Awareness brought nervousness at being in such a place during the time of earthquakes and the outlaw struggled to raise himself to a sitting position. The pounding in his head increased and he felt the large lump that had formed above his right ear.**

**Looking around, his eyes widened when he saw before him the smallest man he had ever laid eyes upon. "Who are you?" he asked, bewildered at the sight of someone who couldn’t be more than two and a half feet tall. Somehow, the mental picture of Sean Fitzpatrick’s little people came to mind, but he kept telling himself that was an impossibility. Tornado whickered from the far side of the cave where he was eating a bit of grass that had been gathered for him.**

**The little man spoke to him in a lyrical language, but he was unable to understand. Zorro started to shake his head, but stopped when the motion increased the pain. "I do not understand you," he said simply. The little man stepped back, his hands on his hips, frowning. A short, curly brown beard covered his chin and he wore what appeared to be American style breeches that ended just below the knee. A leather vest covered a light colored cotton shirt. His eyes were blue-gray in color and looked deeply into his own.**

**"Well, do ye understand that foul language of the Britons?" the man asked, a disgusted look on his face. "It pains my tongue, it does."**

**"Yes, I do, somewhat," Zorro answered.**

**"Well, I suppose we must converse in it then, if ye ken not the true Gaellic," the man commented morosely.**

**"Who are you?" Zorro repeated in English.**

**A mischievous grin spread across the man’s face. "I am one of the little people," he said brightly.**

**"I can see that," Zorro said wryly, trying to hide his shock. The man’s grin changed back to a frown when he got little reaction from the outlaw.**

**"You big lummox, don’t you understand what I am saying? I am a leprechaun."**

**Eyes widened, the outlaw just stared at the little man for a moment, while he thought furiously. The idea of such tales having veracity astounded him, but he had seen evidence that pointed to the reality of ghosts and he believed in miracles. His host just kept grinning at him, obviously enjoying the reaction of the black-clad man. Zorro decided to test the waters of conversation with this enigmatic little man and see what happened. "Then you must be Irish," he stated with a smile.**

**"What do you think I be?" the man said, his voice rising a bit. "See, there is my pot of gold," he added, pointing to a smallish chest near a wall of the cave. Going over to it, he lifted the lid and showed the startled outlaw the glittering contents. Near it, Zorro was able to discern another chest bearing the seal of Mexico on it. _So this was where the payroll was hidden_ , he thought. _Could this be Marco? Surely not_.**

**"What is your name? I would at least like to know who to thank for helping me," Zorro inquired evenly.**

**"Bran Coll O’Conner Muldowney, King of the Western Band of Leprechauns," he stated proudly. He caught Zorro’s eyes looking over at the chest. "Now don’t you be thinking about taking me gold away, you black-clad giant," he added testily. "You would not have the slightest chance to get it away from the likes of me."**

**"Was it you and your band who brought me here? I remember being on a hillside when the earthquake hit," Zorro said.**

**"Aye, with the help of that big _pucá_ of yours," he answered, pointing to Tornado. The stallion seemed quite calm right now.**

**Zorro’s eyes narrowed. "Well, I appreciate your help, _Señor_ Muldowney, but I must return to my home," he said, gingerly getting to his feet. "Let me ask you a question before I go, if I may."**

**The leprechaun looked suspiciously at the outlaw. "Now don’t you go asking for your one wish. And besides, I did not say you could go."**

**Zorro shrugged. "You are a leprechaun by your own admission." Bran nodded. "Leprechauns usually do not help mortal men. In fact, they normally think up devious ways to harass them. Why did you help me?"**

**Bran frowned. "I took a liking to you," he said simply and then he started laughing. "And besides, who are you to talk about harassing mortals. I sneaked into that village and saw you making life miserable for the officer that left two weeks ago. That was a very nice touch, slicing a ‘Z’ in his trousers and then cutting his belt off." Bran continued laughing, while Zorro smiled at the memory of the overbearing lieutenant, who had been sent to take command of the _cuartel_. The man had simply been another in a long line of self-righteous dictators, who thought to advance his position by oppressing _peons_ , priests and landowners.**

**"That was worthy of a leprechaun," Bran added, chuckling. "And besides, I need you to do something for me."**

**"I thought leprechauns were magical and could do anything," Zorro said dryly.**

**"I want to go home," Bran said, ignoring the outlaw’s remark.**

**"To Ireland?" Zorro asked the obvious. "Perhaps you can tell me how you got here."**

**"I made myself invisible and stowed away on board a ship." Bran shrugged. "I was curious and I was also tired of mortals forever chasing after my hard earned gold."**

**"Well, _Señor_ Muldowney, first of all I do not believe you have a band of leprechauns here in California. You are no more a leprechaun than I am a _far darrig_ or my horse is a _pucá,"_ Zorro stated evenly, arms folded across his chest and eyes piercing deeply into those of the ‘leprechaun.’**

**Bran’s shoulders slumped. "Aye, it would be my luck to end up with a knowledgeable outlaw," he sighed. "I am a midget, still a little person, but not a leprechaun," he added with a slight smile, then he told of his journey through the courts of Europe, performing and earning the gold that sat in the chest. Then he told of his return home, only to be hounded by those who thought he was a real leprechaun. He had fled to the new world with his gold to try and find peace and quiet. Bran had found too much of both.**

**"Nevertheless, I will still help you," Zorro added, when Bran had finished.**

**The Irishman looked up at him with hope in his eyes. Then he looked down again, a slight frown on his face. "And I think you will be needin’ my help as well, along with the luck of the Irish."**

**"Why do you say that?" Zorro asked, wondering what Bran was talking about. "I feel fine, other than a slight headache.**

**"Because that big, hulking soldier from your village found you before I could get to you, and it seems he thought you were dead," Bran said sadly. "He must have been most curious to see who you were, because I saw him take your mask off."**  
  
---  
  
**[Chapter Four](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish4.htm)**  
---  
**[Chapter One](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish1.htm)**  
**[Holiday Zorro Stories](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/holidayintro.htm)**  
**[Zorro Contents](http://www.bookscape.net/zorrocontents.htm)**  
**[Main Page](http://www.bookscape.net/index.htm)**


	4. Luck of the Irish

Luck of the Irish

_**Luck of the Irish**_  
  
---  
  
**Chapter Four - The Fox and the Leprechaun**

**"What??!!!...." Zorro’s exclamation startled Tornado, who looked over at him and snorted. "If Sergeant Garcia knows who I am, then soon the whole world will know." The outlaw stood for several minutes pondering his options and sighed when he could think of nothing. "But my mask was on when I woke up. You?"**

**"No, my fine highwayman. For some reason he put it back on and I have no concern to know who you are. Not being from here the knowledge would mean nothing anyway," Bran stated matter-of-factly.**

**Zorro sighed with relief. "But you said he thought I was dead?"**

**"Aye, he did. He covered you up with your cloak and tried to lay rocks around for a cairn, but he was injured and couldn’t finish the task, lucky for you," the Irishman explained. "But you know, from what I have secretly observed in your village, I get the impression that this big sergeant is somewhat superstitious. He might believe in leprechauns."**

**Zorro looked at the little man in astonishment and then a great smile broke out on his face. "Yes, _señor_ , we will help each other, I think."**

**=======================**

**The first thing that Zorro did was to return home before Sergeant Garcia found the courage to make a visit to his father. Riding into the cave, he saw Bernardo cleaning up a broken lantern and other debris. "Was it very bad here?" he asked the _mozo_. The manservant shook his head no and then pointed to him. "I have a very large lump to show for my morning ride, but I have more important news. Where is Father?"**

**Bernardo signed that Don Alejandro was in the _sala_ with Sean having lunch. "What excuse did he make for my absence?" Smiling, the mute signed that the usual apologies had been made; namely that Don Diego had stayed up late reading books and composing tunes and was still in bed. Rubbing his chin, Zorro pondered for a few moments. Bernardo cocked his head, looking at him curiously. "Find an excuse to get Father into the secret room, but do not indicate to _Señor_ Fitzpatrick that I am here."**

**Nodding, the faithful manservant dashed up the stone steps. Zorro followed more sedately, removing the hat, bandanna and mask on his way upstairs. The cape followed and he was just unbuttoning his shirt when his father arrived.**

**"Diego, are you all right?" he asked, the concern tangible in his voice.**

**" _Sí_ , Father. I was only knocked unconscious for a short while. What is alarming, though, is that while I was helpless, Sergeant Garcia found me and thinking me dead, removed my mask to find out who I am. Apparently our good sergeant does not want to publicize my identity. He tried to bury me." Somehow that sounded ludicrous and Diego began to chuckle, but then he became more serious. "But we both know that however well meaning Sergeant Garcia may be, any secret that he has, will not remain one for very long."**

**"What are we going to do?" his father asked, shock still evident on his face.**

**"I was helped by another, one who has been living a hermit’s existence for the past year and has agreed to help me," Diego said. Seeing the alarmed look on his father’s face, he hastened to add, "No, this new friend does not know who I am and seems to have no desire to. He wants to help me so I can help him return to his homeland. We are going to convince Sergeant Garcia that he was the victim of a prank by a leprechaun."**

**Alejandro sighed and ran his hand through his steel-gray hair. "Son, I have found over these past few years that sometimes you are very hard to understand."**

**Smiling, Diego undid the sword, scabbard and sash, and handed them to Bernardo, who, in return, handed Diego his robe. "I believe, Father, that we are going to enlist our house guest in this little charade, especially since he seems to believe in the existence of the little people. Right now, it would probably be advantageous if you were told by Bernardo that I had arisen early and gone to...say, San Fernando to conduct business and I will not be back until late tonight."**

**"Diego, what I do not understand is how you are going to conjure up a leprechaun," Alejandro said in exasperation. The whole idea of the acting _comandante_ knowing that his son was the infamous outlaw was unsettling on his nerves and he wished that he had Diego’s confidence in the success of his plan.**

**"Trust me, Father," Diego said.**

**====================**

**Two hours later, a very sad faced Sgt. Garcia knocked on the _sala_ door. Bernardo answered and let the acting _comandante_ into the room.**

**"Don Alejandro, may I see you in private, _por favor_?" the sergeant asked. The two men went into the library. Sean looked at the library door in curiosity. Bernardo took the empty wine glasses into the kitchen area and then slipped out to the patio where he dashed up the stairs and into the secret room off of Don Diego’s bedroom. Soon he had joined his _patrón_ at the spy hole opening to the library. Earlier, Diego had cleaned up and enjoyed a quick meal.**

**"Sergeant, surely what you are saying cannot be true. Bernardo told me several hours ago that Diego had left for San Fernando to arrange the purchase of a breeding stallion. And the idea that Diego is Zorro is ludicrous. Can we not assume that with the dust and dirt flying around after the earthquake, that you were mistaken?" Diego saw his father pacing as though pondering the shocking news that Sgt. Garcia had just told him. "And are you even sure that Zorro is dead? That seems so impossible."**

**When Sgt. Garcia just nodded, Alejandro continued, "Much of the time, my son’s greatest expenditure of energy is playing the guitar and riding to visit his friends. This trip to San Fernando only came about because I insisted. You are most certainly mistaken, Sergeant, but I can see that you truly believe what you are saying. That speaks well of your respect for our family and I thank you for it. As soon as my son has returned, I will tell him of your concern. He will want to reassure you in person, I am sure."**

**"But Don Alejandro...." the confused sergeant sputtered. Alejandro patted him on the back and ushered Garcia out of the room. Diego and Bernardo went back up the stairs where Diego changed into a clean costume. Zorro had much work to do before night fell.**

**=====================**

**Sean Fitzpatrick was singing an Irish ballad quietly to himself in his room when he glanced at the mirror and saw the reflection of a black-clad figure sitting languidly on the windowsill watching him. "Zorro," he breathed in disbelief.**

**"You have a nice voice, _Señor_. I enjoyed your song immensely," the outlaw told him, smiling. "I have been told that you are familiar with leprechauns and think that one is helping me in my endeavors."**

**" _Sí, Señor_ Zorro. From what I have heard, that must be so. If not a leprechaun, then one of the other little people," Sean told him earnestly. He motioned for the highwayman to enter. Zorro sat leisurely on the bed.**

**The smile turned into a laugh. " _Señor_ , you are the first to find out my secret and I congratulate you on being so astute. I do indeed have help from one of the little people. However, I am in a slight quandary and I might need to enlist your help."**

**Abjectly curious, Sean told the outlaw to continue. "My little person wants to go back home to Ireland. He came here to find peace from gold hunters and I am afraid that this dry country does not suit him," Zorro explained. "The main reason he helped me was due to the fact that I had no interest in his gold. I have been told that you have wealthy backers and you also have no need for a pot of gold."**

**"I have sufficient for my needs, _señor_ , I really do not need anymore," Sean concurred.**

**"Good. Then he could trust you to help him get back home, along with his gold." Zorro said. "He was most adamant, and said he would not leave without it, even if he had to spend the rest of his life in California."**

**The thought of meeting a real leprechaun made Sean’s head spin. That was even more exciting than meeting Zorro. "Yes, tell him that I promise not to touch his gold and I will be happy to help him get back to Eire."**

**"I will bring him here tomorrow night to meet you, _señor_." Zorro smiled, waved farewell and slipped out the window.**

**====================**

**Next, Diego made a fast ride to San Fernando, where, a short while after his arrival, Corporal Reyes found him eating supper in the tavern. "Ah, Corporal. Join me for a cup of wine." Reyes’ eyes lit up and he pulled over a chair. "What brings you here to San Fernando, Corporal?" Diego asked him. "I have just concluded looking over some of the stock at a few of the ranchos in the area and thought I would have my supper here before going home." It was essentially a true statement. He had looked at stock most carefully as he rode to San Fernando.**

**"Sgt. Garcia sent me here to find you," Reyes answered as he gulped down his wine. A slight tremor caused the wine bottle to shake and Diego nonchalantly took hold of it until the after shock ended. Reyes looked in alarm at the ceiling of the establishment.**

**"Pesky things, these earthquakes. My gelding threw me off and it took me two hours before he would let me catch and ride him. I am very glad this was not one of the big ones my father always tells me about," Diego stated nonchalantly. "Why did Sergeant Garcia want you to find me?" His face took on a look of concern. "No one is hurt at the _hacienda_ are they?"**

**"No, Don Diego. He just said to see if you were here in San Fernando. He did not want me to tell you anything. It is most strange."**

**"That it is. Well, Corporal, let me finish this plate and we can return to Los Angeles together. Especially since it will soon be dark," Diego told him amiably. "Are you hungry? I can order you a plate, too." Reyes nodded his thanks and soon he was relishing _tortillas_ along with beef and corn stew. Within the hour the two men were on the road toward Los Angeles.**

**=====================**

**"Bran, are you ready for your acting debut?" Zorro asked the midget, when he had returned to the cave later that night.**

**"Aye, I am. Have you arranged for me to get home?"**

**"Indeed I have, with one of your countryman. He is most anxious to return to Eire and has no interest in taking your gold away from you. I think he is more eager to interview and write about a real leprechaun," Zorro said with a laugh. He noticed that the chest of gold was nowhere to be found, but the payroll chest was sitting against the wall in the same place it was when he had been there earlier in the day. Picking it up, he mounted Tornado and reached down to help Bran up.**

**Soon the two men were cantering toward Los Angeles, Bran riding in back of the outlaw, while the chest was balanced in front. As they approached the outskirts of the _pueblo_ , Zorro slowed the stallion down and guided him to the back wall of the _cuartel_. "It is past midnight and Sergeant Garcia should be sound asleep by now. Now remember, the good sergeant knows very little English, so keep the conversation as simple as you can."**

**"Aye, that I will, _Señor_ Zorro. You just be ready to translate," Bran stated. He gasped when the outlaw lifted him up to the roof. "Surely there is an easier way for sane men to sneak into a place," he hissed.**

**Visualizing what they probably looked like right now elicited a smile from the highwayman. "We are not sane, _Señor_ Muldowney. Just climb up and wait for me," he stated.**

**The pair quietly padded across the rooftops, Zorro helping the ‘leprechaun’ over the most difficult parts and down from the roof near the window of Sergeant Garcia’s room. The big man’s snoring told them they were in the right place. "He would wake the banshee herself," the Irishman whispered.**

**" _Sí_ , and the dead as well," Zorro quipped, slipping in the window after the midget. Taking his place near head of the sergeant’s bed, he looked to make sure that Bran was in position. He almost chuckled at the sight of the little man sitting cross-legged on a trunk at the foot of Sgt. Garcia’s bed. With the end of his sword, Zorro tickled the big man’s chin.**

**Garcia snorted and finally stopped snoring. Some more tickling with the sword and his eyes opened. Sitting up, he looked straight into the eyes of the little man. "Aahh," he cried. "By the Saints, what are you?"**

**"I am one of the little people," Bran intoned in English. "A leprechaun."**  
  
---  
  
**[Chapter Five](http://www.bookscape.net/holiday/irish5.htm)**  
---  
**[Chapter One](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/irish1.htm)**  
**[Holiday Zorro Stories](http://www.bookscape.net/zshort/holidayintro.htm)**  
**[Zorro Contents](http://www.bookscape.net/zorrocontents.htm)**  
**[Main Page](http://www.bookscape.net/index.htm)**


	5. Luck of the Irish

Luck of the Irish

_**Luck of the Irish**_  
  
---  
  
**Chapter Five - May the Wind be Always at Your Back**

**"A leprechaun?" Garcia sputtered. His eyes were as large as saucers and his mouth hung open in shock.**

**"Aye, a leprechaun. You have been most fun to play tricks on," he laughed devilishly.**

**"Tricks? What tricks? No one has played tricks on me." Garcia sputtered and looked bewildered. Zorro was afraid that the sergeant’s knowledge of English was almost exhausted.**

**"Aye, and the best was the one early this morning when you thought that Zorro was dead. Oh, the look on your face was grand, it was." Bran hooted and slapped his knee. Sgt. Garcia just looked more bewildered. "And if not for that black-cloaked demon, curse him, I would still be having fun with ye," Bran said indignantly.**

**"I do not understand you, _Señor_ Leprechaun," Garcia said softly. "What is this about Zorro?"**

**"Sergeant, what our friend, the leprechaun, is saying, is that he tricked you into believing I was dead," Zorro said in Spanish.**

**"Zorro!!" Garcia exclaimed. "But you were dead. I saw you... And, and...and I do not know what is going on anymore. Corporal Reyes said he saw Don Diego in San Fernando this evening."**

**"The only reason the leprechaun is here now is because I caught him, looked him directly in the eye and made him do what I asked, which was to explain the very devious trick he played on both of us," Zorro explained. "I also made him give me the payroll money. He had stolen it from the bandits and hidden it in his cave."**

**Glaring at Zorro, Bran said, "Aye, you have caught old Bran Muldowney fair and square, you big black devil. And all I wanted to do was have some fun. There is no fun at all in this beastly dry land," Bran sputtered. "And that silver was nice to have in me pot, as well."**

**Zorro smiled. The Irishman was playing his role to the hilt. The outlaw translated for the acting _comandante_. "Sergeant, you know how devious these leprechauns are," Zorro said softly. "And that they are magical as well."**

**_"Sí, Señor_ Zorro. Señor Fitzpatrick said they were. But it looked so real," he said shaking his head. Looking at Bran, he said, "You mean it was all a joke? He is not Don Diego?"**

**Bran started laughing again and laughed until he almost fell off the trunk. "And he is not dead either!!" the Irishman shouted with glee, slapping both knees.**

**" _Sí_ , praise the Saints, he is not dead," Garcia said with a slight smile on his face. Then he looked up at the outlaw as his smile grew broader. " _Señor_ Zorro, you are not dead. And you are not Don Diego?"**

**"Sergeant Garcia, you insult me." Zorro said indignantly. "I have seen Don Diego fight. If I did not like you so much, I might take umbrage and challenge you to a duel." The Irishman was still sitting on the trunk, laughing.**

**Suddenly a banging on the door interrupted them. "Sergeant Garcia, are you all right? What is that noise," came a voice on the other side of the door.**

**"Oh, it is just Zorro, Corporal, and a leprechaun." Then the sergeant put his hand over his mouth in shock at what he had just said.**

**"Zorro?" Corporal Zapata said. "Zorro is here! Lancers! To arms! Zorro has captured Sgt. Garcia!" The lancer started throwing himself at the door.**

**While Garcia was grabbing for his pants, Zorro motioned for Bran to hide under the bed. He slipped out the window like a wraith just as the door burst open. Splinters flew everywhere and the soldier ran to the window just in time to see Zorro slip over the far roof.**

**"Sergeant Garcia, did Zorro hurt you. Do you want us to chase after him?" Zapata asked.**

**Garcia shook his head while struggling with his boots. The bed frame shrieked in protest, bouncing up and down with his efforts. "No, Corporal. You would not catch him anyway. But Zorro said he found the payroll money. Search the _cuartel_ for the chest!" he shouted. The sergeant ran out of the room after his soldiers, still trying to get his boot to slide over his heel.**

**Climbing down from the roof, Zorro swung in the window and peered under the bed. " _Señor_ Muldowney, are you all right?" he asked softly.**

**"Aye, but only barely," Bran said with a slight groan.**

**Zorro helped him to his feet. "Now let us leave," he said to the little man. The pair stealthily made their way onto the roof and across to the back wall, where the outlaw whistled for Tornado. By the time the soldiers had found the payroll chest, Zorro and his ‘leprechaun’ were long gone. It was of no consequence, however, because they were all lined up waiting for Sergeant Garcia to count out their pay. And the sergeant didn’t mind accommodating them, even at two o’clock in the morning.**

**=========================**

**Late at night, several days later, a dark-clad man and a very small man silently stole aboard a ship bound for Europe. A non-descript padlocked chest was stored in an unobtrusive corner in the hold and the little man stowed away in the cabin that would belong to the only Irish passenger on board.**

**"I thank you. If I were a real leprechaun, I would give you your wish gladly for helping me to get me back to my homeland," Bran said.**

**"I am just grateful to you for helping to protect my identity. _Vaya con Dios_ , my friend and good luck to you in your homeland," Zorro responded.**

**"Aye, and may the wind always blow at your back," Bran said softly as the outlaw turned away and silently glided out of the cabin.**

**===================**

**The next morning Alejandro and Diego took Sean Fitzpatrick to San Pedro to board the ship that would ultimately take him back home. As the ship sailed out of the harbor, the pair returned to their carriage and rode sedately back toward their _hacienda._ "Father, shall we stop at the tavern for a moment. I wish to see how Sergeant Garcia is faring after his little adventure."**

**Alejandro laughed. "I still wish I could have seen that, my son. The way you told it.... Ah, I can just picture Sergeant Garcia. Do you think that Sean will figure out that Bran Muldowney is not a leprechaun?"**

**"Probably, or Bran will tell him when they have gotten to know each other a bit better. But what Sean and Bran have told me makes me wonder if there really is such a thing as the fairy folk. I have seen many strange things since I donned the mask and began riding at night," Diego mused.**

**His father nodded sagely. "That is very true, my son."**

**When they walked into the tavern, they were greeted by the big booming voice of the acting _comandante_. "Come sit down with me, _señores_. It is a beautiful morning, is it not?" Garcia asked. When they had sat down, the sergeant leaned conspiratorially toward them and said, "Did I tell you that Zorro found the payroll and brought it to the _cuartel_?"**

**" _Sí_ , Sergeant, which is why the men have been so happy these past few days, Alejandro explained. "It is about time, too."**

**"And we found the bandit leader as well. He had a bit too much wine and was ranting and raving about a little man taking the payroll chest from him and hiding it. The other bandits identified him. So now we do not have to worry about this group of robbers," Garcia said smugly as he finished the wine in his glass. "And all of my men reported back to duty when they heard about the return of the payroll."**

**"Ah, Sergeant Garcia. I do believe that you are a most lucky, as well as a very efficient, acting _comandante_ ," Diego said brightly.**

**"And speaking of luck, did you know that I found out why Zorro is so lucky all the time?" he paused dramatically.**

**"No. Why is he, Sergeant?" Diego asked.**

**"It is because he had the help of a leprechaun," Garcia whispered.**

**"Seriously? Well, that is most interesting. Sean Fitzpatrick told me the same thing. Perhaps that is why he made up the little poem he told me this morning," Diego said, a slight smile on his face. He sat back and sipped his wine.**

**"Well, Don Diego, are you going to tell us?" Garcia wheedled.**

**" _Sí_ , he called it a limerick," Diego explained. "It is a funny type of poem." He paused to remember.**

**"There once was an outlaw in black,  
Who rode through the night, tis a fact,  
The leprechaun did aide,  
Along with his blade,  
And the wind always blows at his back.**

**Alejandro smiled and raised his wine glass. "To Zorro," he toasted. "Who, it seems, has the luck of the Irish to go with his skills." The others laughed and raised their glasses as well.**

**The End**  
  
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